#elderwomen

[thefestival]

The Festival - Developer Log 9, 11/11/2024

Good evening!

So much has happened since my last checkin, that I don’t even know where to begin.

Just like in the last update, I’ve done a lot of work optimizing the code in Unreal, which wound up being hugely critical because I had to manually update the DialogueTree plugin I’ve been using due to a bug in the previous release. It was not an easy process, but I got it taken care of, and I’ve been making steady progress ever since.

Five major changes from last time worth noting:

First of all, I’ve been tweaking the character fullbody sprites I had in the previous iteration, editing their size, proportions, and even their expressions. Early feedback I have gotten from friends has made me confident that this was a superb and necessary move, as the sprites really add a lot of personality to the conversations.

Secondly, I made rough draft drawings of the food scenes that I had incorporated into the game the for the last devlog as a prototype. As you can see below, the food scenes feature little plates of food that you can eat from which progress the conversation you are currently having with NPCs, and each food item even includes flavor-text describing the item you are eating.

Thirdly, I created a character model for Roxane, another major character of the story (seen below). Over the course of writing the script, she grew from a minor character to one of its most crucial, as she has been swindled by the villain of the story, Helvan Dynicus, into letting him stay at her home, and it is up to Nishma and the Elderwomen of Hemmingward to try to save her from him.

Fourthly, Morgan and I have been fleshing out the interior environments for the game. I was working on the temple interior, while Morgan modeled a litany of props for the interior of Roxane's house, pictured below:

Fifthly, and lastly, I successfuly exported and uploaded the first build for the game. It took me some time to get it to a point I am happy with, especially since it only includes the first act out of three, but now people can actually check out what I have been working on for the past year and change. I’m really happy to be at this point, even if I still have a lot of work ahead of me.

I will upload the link to the game in a separate post. Partly because I want it to be a standalone post, and partly because I may re-export and re-upload the build in order to make some last minute changes. But otherwise, I hope to have a link for it posted here in the next couple days.

I may not be able to get another devlog done until after the semester ends, but I will do my best to document everything else I have gotten done by then. Hopefully I will have a full game to show, even if it is incredibly rough around the edges.

At this point, the important thing is to have *a* game to show off in full.

[ruiniel]

My Tolkien showerthought of the day is that making waybread was an art taught by Oromë to the Three Elderwomen of the Elves in prep for the Great Journey

[soniagivray]

https://youtu.be/qwD5ePvKaUY. Aquí el link del vídeo Chino divertido.... aquí hago la parte 1.... Anímate!!!!..... Muy fácil, busca tu motivación y muévete!!! 🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧 Here is the link to the funny Chinese video .... here I do part 1 .... Cheer up !!!! ..... Very easy, find your motivation and move !!! #keepsafeandhealthy#fiftyoneyearsstrong#cincuentayunaños#cincuentañerasdeportistas#figurerobics#jungdayeon#aerobic#aerobicos#funnyworkoutvideos#iloveworkouts#elderwomen# (en Khok Kloi, Phangnga, Thailand) https://www.instagram.com/p/CB48wEohASc/?igshid=6ihrr6grw28n

[colorblindartpl-blog]

fot. Szymon Konieczny © Colorblind 2020 #elderwomen #people #streetphotography #streetphoto_bw #streetphoto #streetphoto_bnw #streetphotographers #warszawa #poland #poland🇵🇱 #zfaanima #colorblindartpl (w: Wawer, Warszawa, Poland) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9wnYJQptbc/?igshid=17oid6tamim0n

[chaitanyabharatnews]

आखिर क्यों पुरुषों को भाती है अपने से अधिक उम्र की महिलाएं?

चैतन्य भारत न्यूज किसी के प्रति आकर्षित होना आम बात है, लेकिन कई बार पुरुष अपने से बड़ी उम्र की महिलाओं के प्रति आकर्षित हो जाते हैं। पुरुषों में यह बात देखी गई है कि वह अक्सर ही अपने से बड़ी उम्र की औरतों के प्रति एक अजीब-सा आक��्षण महसूस करते हैं। आइए जानते हैं कि आखिर क्यों पुरुष अपने से बड़ी उम्र की महिलाओं की तरफ आकर्षित होते हैं। (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); हर बात को बेहतर समझना

अधिक उम्र की महिलाएं चीजों को बेहतर तरीके से समझती हैं। दरअसल उन्होनें आपसे ज्यादा दुनिया देखी होती है। वह खराब स्थिति में लड़ाई-झगड़े के बगैर शांति से बातचीत करना पसंद करती हैं, क्योंकि वह जानती हैं कि बातचीत ही हर समस्या का हल है। रिश्ते को मजबूत बनाती हैं

अधिक उम्र की महिलाएं रिश्तों को काफी गंभीरता से लेती हैं। उनके लिए रिश्ता उनकी पहली प्राथमिकता होता है, क्योंकि उन्हें पता होता है कि इस दुनिया में रिश्ते से बड़ी कोई चीज नहीं है। यही वजह है कि पुरुष बहुत जल्द अपने से बड़ी उम्र की महिलाओं के प्रति आकर्षित हो जाते हैं। आत्मविश्वास होना

अधिक उम्र की महिलाएं बेहद आत्मविश्वासी होती हैं। वह अपने आत्मविश्वास की बदौलत सब कुछ पाने की हिम्मत रखती हैं। पार्टनर के साथ खुद को भी समझना

बड़ी उम्र की महिलाएं अपने पार्टनर के साथ अपने आप को बहुत अच्छी तरह समझती हैं। उनकी अपनी जीवनशैली होती है और वे जानती हैं उन्हें अपनी लाइफ से क्या अपेक्षाएं हैं। ये भी पढ़े... पार्टनर के करीब आने से पहले खुद से पूछे ये सवाल, मजबूत होगा रिश्ता ये हैं वो खास बातें जिन्हें महिलाएं अपने पार्टनर से छिपाती हैं शादी के बाद पार्टनर की इन हरकतों की वजह से बिखर जाता है पति-पत्नी का रिश्ता Read the full article

[pujadeo]

Around 75% of women diagnosed with breast cancer over 50 years of age.

[septembriseur]

This short story is presented as the dream of a character in an Amitav Ghosh short story that I encountered for the second time today in a collection that I was reading. The story is called “The Ascent of the Anthropoi.” 

As a story it’s sort of not to my taste, but as a parable I find it striking.

In my dream I was a young girl, growing up in a valley that was home to a cluster of warring villages, high in the Himalaya. Overlooking our Valley was an immense, snowy mountain, whose peak was almost always wreathed in clouds. The mountain was called Mahaparbat, Great Mountain, and despite our differences all of us who lived in the Valley revered that mountain: our ancestors had told us that of all the world’s mountains ours was the most alive; that it would protect us, and look after us – but only on condition that we told stories about it, and sang about it, and danced for it – but always from a distance. For one of the binding laws of the Valley, respected by all our warring villages, was that we were never, on any account, to set foot on the slopes of the Great Mountain.

We heeded our ancestors and kept away from this mountain: we knew in our hearts that our mountain was a living being that cared for us; we saw proof of this every day, all around us, in the form of a tree that grew along the streams that descended from its slopes. This tree, which grew only in our Valley and nowhere else, produced things that were so miraculous that we called it the Magic Tree. Its leaves kept insects away; its wood was impermeable to water; its roots nourished rare mush- rooms; its flowers produced exquisitely scented honey; and its fruit was delicious to eat. But the most miraculous thing of all was the nut that lay within the fruit: its fragrance was incomparable, and it had so many medicinal uses that traders from the Lowlands would travel long distances in search for it.

Even though we Valley People fought over many things, we were all in agreement on one matter: strangers would never be allowed to enter our Valley. So those who came in search of our goods had to wait at a mountain pass that was defended by a great portcullis. There once every year, when the snows retreated, our Eldermen and Elderwomen would go to meet the visiting merchants. In that one week our Elderpeople would acquire all the trade goods that we needed, in exchange for the gifts of our Mountain – the miraculous nuts, rare mushrooms, fine honey, herbs, and the like. At the end of Trading Week, as it was known, the Elderpeople would see to it that all the visitors had departed, after which they would post a squad of sentries to guard the portcullis for the rest of the year. Then they would return to their homes, and each village in the Valley would host a ceremony of gratitude, to thank the Great Mountain. When the prayers had been chanted, and the offerings made, the whole Valley would feast and dance: for us, that was the happiest day of the year.

Life in our Valley was not easy – we had to work hard for our food, and when we were not doing that, we were fighting with our neighbours. But we knew no other life and we were content with what we had. And why would we not be? We loved to listen to stories about our Great Mountain and our amazing trees; we loved to sing our songs, and we loved, most of all, to dance. Our dances were always led by women, and the most skilled of them were known as Adepts; sometimes, when dancing they would go into a trance, and afterwards they would tell us that they had felt the mountain speaking to them, through the soles of their feet.

Oh, how we envied our Adepts!

So things went on, as ever they had, until one year when the Elderpeople returned from Trading Week with solemn, troubled faces. They told us that a stranger of a new kind had come to the pass that year, from a land very far away. His people, he said, were called the Anthropoi; their savants had heard about our nuts and he had been sent on a mission to learn about our Valley, and all that it contained.

The Elderpeople showed him their wares – mushrooms and herbs, nuts and honey – but that was not enough for the stranger: he wanted to come into the Valley and see it with his own eyes.

This was impossible, the Elderpeople told him; it was against the Law of the Valley; the Great Mountain did not wish it. This displeased the stranger mightily, but he smiled and said: ‘Since I can’t enter your Valley, I must learn about it from you. Tell me about your Valley and about all the other valuable trade goods that it produces.’

‘The most important thing in our Valley,’ the Elderpeople told him, ‘is something that cannot be traded – our living mountain, Mahaparbat.’ ‘Oh really?’ said the stranger, ‘Tell me about your mountain then.’ So our elders told him about our beloved Mahaparbat, and the wonderful streams that were fed by its snows. The stranger listened with great care, and wrote everything down, so diligently that some of our elders began to worry about his intentions. It was a great relief to them when, at the end of the week, he left with all the Lowland people. Although he went quietly enough, his last words had an ominous ring: ‘I am sure we will see each other again.’

A year passed, and then another, and there was no sign of the stranger, which was a matter of no little satisfaction for the Elders. But then suddenly one morning the Great Mountain began to shake and heave; avalanches came roaring down its slopes and rifts opened up in the Valley.

Terror-struck, everyone turned to the Adepts: ‘What is happening? What is our Mahaparbat telling us?’

The Adepts put their ears, and their feet, to the ground and listened as they had never listened before. Then they turned to us, ashen-faced: ‘A cycle of time has ended,’ they said, ‘and another one has begun: the Cycle of Tribulation. Strangers are coming from afar, a horde of them, armed with terrible weapons. . .’

Sure enough, not long after, a lone sentry came racing down from the mountain pass: an army of Anthropoi had arrived, he said. They were not many in number but they had very powerful weapons and were skilled in the art of war. They had stormed the portcullis and taken all the sentries captive. He alone had been set free, to bring a message to the Valley, to let us know that the Anthropoi had decided to conquer the Great Mountain! Their savants had studied all that was told to their envoy, and they were convinced that unbeknownst to us, great riches – minerals, metals and the like – were hidden within the mountain. We were unaware of this because we were a credulous and benighted people, who believed that our Mountain was alive. The savants of the Anthropoi were unmatched in their wisdom, and they had decided that since we were not making use of the Mountain’s riches, they were fully justified in seizing them and taking whatever they wished.

A stunned silence spread through the Valley. ‘Impossible,’ we said, with one voice. ‘We can’t let them do that.’

‘If we try to stop them,’ said the sentry, ‘they say they will fight us. We have no choice, they say, but to let them climb and conquer the Great Mountain. Not only that, we must help them do it, or else they will kill or enslave us.’

Of course such an ultimatum could not be accepted. It was decided that we would fight, and so we did, all of us, men and women, young and old. We fought valiantly, but our efforts were unavailing – some of our villages were defeated in battle, some were tricked into attacking their neighbours, and others were reduced to quiescence with drugs that sent them into dream-like trances.

Once we had been subjugated, the Anthropoi herded us together and told us that from now on we would be ruled by some of their most ferocious soldiers – they called them Kraani, or the ‘Helmeted Ones’. They were to be our guards and overseers, to make sure that we did all the work that had been assigned to us. They were small in number, the Kraani, but they made up for this by conjuring up terrifying illusions of omnipotence – they created such a distance between themselves and us that we came to accept that the Anthropoi were not like us, that they were a different species of being.

The first thing the Kraani did was to dismiss all our old Elderpeople and appoint new ones, whom they chose themselves. In the past, amongst our Elders, there had been women as well as men, but no more. The new ones were all men, and we soon learned to fear these Eldermen almost as much as we feared the Kraani.

Next they imprisoned our Adepts, and forbade all our ceremonies and songs, stories and dances. They were all worthless, they said; our ancestral lore, they said, had brought nothing but doom upon us, which was why we were now reduced to this state of degradation and despair.

Our state was indeed as terrible as it could be, yet we soon noticed that the Anthropoi could not do without us: we were essential for their assault on the Great Mountain. It was we who ensured that they had the provisions and porters that they needed to climb its slopes – without the supplies that we provided the ascent would have been impossible. And so it happened that we became the suppliers who made it possible for the Anthropoi to conquer our own sacred mountain – under the Kraani’s watchful eyes we toiled in the fields to produce the materials they needed for the assault. This was our place, the Kraani told us, this was where we belonged. Our bodies were not suited to the climb, we were not strong enough, our diets were enfeebling, our habits degenerate, our beliefs perverse, our minds weak, and our hearts lacking in courage. We were nothing but Varvaroi (which was what they called us).

Many of us came to believe all these things, and our eyes were drawn inexorably to the Anthropoi as they ascended Mahaparbat’s mysterious, glistening snows. We watched spellbound as they rapelled upwards; we saw that their eagerness to ascend was such that they often fought amongst themselves; we saw that many among them were mutinous, unwilling to continue the climb, and we saw, to our horror, that these rebels were often hurled off the slopes – and all these dramatic and murderous episodes made the spectacle even more compelling. The lives of the Anthropoi seemed infinitely more exciting than our own wretched existences, down in the Valley – and in no small measure was the attrac- tion enhanced by the fact that the Kraani were always telling us not to look in that direction: our job was to toil in our fields so the climbers never ran short of supplies.

As time went by, our attitude towards the mountain began to change – our reverence slowly shifted away from the mountain and attached itself instead, to the spectacle of the climb. Gradually, as the spectacle took the place that the mountain had once occupied in our hearts, we burned with the desire to ascend those slopes ourselves.

Some of us Varvaroi witnessed the ascent more closely than the rest – they were the porters, the muleteers, the sherpas, all from the families of the chosen Eldermen. The stories they told us about the ascent of the Anthropoi further inflamed our appetites. In our Valley wisdom had always resided with the women, and since they no longer had any place amongst our Elders, our leadership passed into the hands of those who least understood our Mountain – strong, covetous men, who were ruth- less in enforcing their will. The Kraani, who were dwindling in number, came to trust them more and more, until at last our Eldermen began to think that the time had come for them to usurp their place.

Slowly, at the urging of our Eldermen, we began to defy the Kraani, timidly at first, but then with increasing determination. As time went by our confidence grew and the balance began to shift in our direction. We realized that we were many and they were few; we learnt that we could seriously hinder the climbers by downing our tools and refusing to do what was expected of us. We even won a few skirmishes and battles. And at last a day came, when it became clear to the Kraani that it would be impossible for them to sustain the illusion of omnipotence for much longer. Nor did they need the toilers of the Valley as much as they once had, because by this time the Anthropoi had indeed found great stocks of riches on the mountain’s slopes – more than enough for them to sustain themselves. So one night the Kraani melted away and went racing off to join the other Anthropoi.

Now began a tumultuous, headlong race towards the mountain, and only after we Varvaroi had flung ourselves on it, in a mad breathless rush, did it become clear that we could not all attempt the climb together. No less than the Anthropoi would we need toilers to labour in the Valley, patiently sending up supplies to those of us who were to attempt the ascent. This realization set in motion a great upheaval in the Valley, with some villages attacking others, in the hope of turning them into drones and drudges; other villages were torn apart, with neighbours killing each other, in the hope of getting ahead. A great orgy of bloodletting filled our Valley, bringing slaughter and destruction on a scale far beyond that which the Anthropoi had inflicted on us in the past. So it went on until some kind of order came about and a great number of the Valley’s inhabitants were successfully confined to the bottom of the slope, under the guns of newly formed legions of armed guards, picked from our own villages. These were the Kraani of the Varvaroi.

And now began another assault upon Mahaparbat, more carefully planned than those that had preceded it. The climb was much harder now because the Anthropoi had dirtied the slopes and covered them with wastes. But despite the difficulties, we persisted and it soon became evident that we were by no means unequal to the task ahead: our bodies were strong and our minds sharp; our hearts were full of courage and our resolve was steadfast. Faster and faster we climbed, while down in the Valley the toilers worked harder and harder too – for we had promised them that if they worked hard enough, they too would be allowed to join the ascent: this was the hope that sustained them. Soon the word spread, all the way down to the Lowlands, and more and more people came rushing up to the Valley to join us.

Our ascent was spectacular, performed in a much shorter time than the Anthropoi had taken. Much sooner than we had expected the higher slopes came into view, and we now realized, to our astonishment, that the Anthropoi were faltering, and hadn’t yet reached the mountain’s cloud- wrapped summit. We understood also that if we continued at the pace we had set so far, we might achieve something we had never allowed our- selves to contemplate – some of us might be among the first to set foot on the summit of our once-sacred mountain.

A great upsurge of euphoria seized us now, and for a moment, exhilarated and exhausted, we paused to catch our breath before launch- ing the final assault. And as we stood there, thumping each other on the back and beating our chests with joy, it came to our notice that some of the Anthropoi – their savants – were signalling desperately in our direc- tion, urging us to look down, at the foot of the mountain.

Turning our heads we beheld a sight that took us utterly by surprise. We saw that the combined weight of all the climbers had unsettled the snow on the lower slopes of the mountain. As a result, a series of devastating land-slides and avalanches had swept through our Valley, killing vast numbers of our fellow villagers. We stood there aghast, watching in horror, but there was nothing to be done – to turn back was impossible now. Nor would the villagers below have allowed us to turn back, even if we had been so inclined, for their only hope of survival was to follow us up the mountain.

We put our dead kin out of our minds – they were poor anyway, and there were so many of them that a few would not be missed. We gathered our resolve once again and threw ourselves on the slopes with redoubled fury, climbing ever harder and faster. And as we ascended we noticed that the Anthropoi’s savants were signalling again, not pointing down- wards this time, but towards the mountain itself. This puzzled us and we began to tap and probe as we climbed; we saw that strange crevasses were opening up everywhere, that each step was setting off a mudslide, some of which were sweeping even the Anthropoi away. But still we kept going, faster and faster.

Now, because of these ordeals, there was a change of heart among the Anthropoi, especially the savants, many of whom began to visit us, and talk with us. No longer did they call us Varvaroi; they became friendly to the point where they began to give us some of the Mountain’s riches. From time to time they would even share their knowledge. This was how we learnt that the savants had now determined that our Mountain could support only a small number of climbers. If that number increased beyond a certain point then the ice would begin to melt – as it was melting now. Soon it would drown the Valley below and sweep everything away.

This astounded us. The Anthropoi had always told us that one of the reasons why they were so much stronger than us, was that their ideas were universal – unlike the false, local beliefs that circulated amongst us Valley-folk. They had laughed at our inherited ideas of the mountain’s sacredness: that was all ignorant, pagan superstition, they said. All moun- tains were the same, they could all be climbed if only the climbers were strong enough, intelligent enough, resolute enough. That was what ‘universal’ meant, did it not? That all people everywhere could – and should – do the same thing?

How could one refute something so self-evident? How indeed, except in the way the mountain had done it, without words, without reasoning aloud? Could it be true then, we began to wonder, that our Mountain’s mode of reasoning could only be understood, as our Adepts had always said, by listening carefully, and using, not our brains but the soles of our feet?

What to do now? As we were scratching our heads, we saw that the Anthropoi had dispatched a group of emissaries to consult with us. Even though we could see that some of the old Kraani were in this group, we decided to meet with them, to see if they could offer a solution to the problem that we were now all faced with. A long palaver was held, but in the end nothing came of it. To our astonishment, the former Kraani placed the blame for our common predicament squarely on our shoulders. It was because of us, they said, that this catastrophe had come about – there were simply too many of us to attempt a climb like this one. We were the latecomers they said, so it was up to us to leave the mountain and return to our Valley. This was the Age of the Anthropoi, and we had no place in it.

But it was you, we protested, who said that all people everywhere must attempt to climb the mountain. It was your savants who told us that you were the model we must emulate. All we did was to follow in your tracks – and it’s a miracle that we have succeeded in coming as far as we have, for by the time we started climbing you had used up most of the mountain’s riches.

They shrugged this off: that’s all in the past, said the Kraani; why dwell on it? Let’s talk about now, about the Age of the Anthropoi. Look at us, we are the Anthropoi, we always know best; you Varvaroi need to copy us even more closely than you did before. If you observe us carefully enough you will see that we are learning new ways to climb, so that we tread lightly on the mountain. This is what you must do – you must stop climbing in the old, bad way. You must learn to tread lightly, like us.

But there’s no time for us to do that, we cried. Our people in the villages below are depending on us to climb as high as possible, in as short a time as possible, so that they too can begin their ascent. You and your people are already much safer than us, because you’re higher up on the slope – even if you tread lightly, you are sure to set off avalanches that will sweep us away. We and our people will be doomed.

But that’s your fault, they said, if you hadn’t been so slow in starting the climb, if you hadn’t let the foolish ways of your ancestors hold you back, you too would have been higher up. There’s nothing for you to do now but accept your lot.

And then we understood that there was no point in bargaining with them. We understood that the climbers who were leading them did not, in their hearts, care about the Great Mountain at all; it had never held any meaning for them. The only thing they really cared about was being higher on the slope than we were; all that really mattered to them was to prove that they were always right and we were always wrong. Nor could they stop climbing even if they had wanted to – climbing was like a drug to them; their bodies could not do without it. And how in any case, could they bring themselves to turn back? Their pride, which was very great, would not allow it, for it would have meant disowning their past and their ways of thinking and climbing: it would have meant accepting that their savants knew a lot about how things work, but nothing about what they mean; they would have had to acknowledge that their stories were false, because their storytellers could not see that trees and mountains were living beings; they would have had to admit that it was not the manner of the climb that was to blame for our troubles – it was the climb itself. To hope for such a change was futile.

And what of us? Could we have turned back ourselves? No – that too was impossible now, for our bodies too had grown used to this drug, and to the thin air that we had risen to, and to all the excitement that accompanied our ascent. Nor would our kinsfolk, down in the Valley, have allowed us to turn back, for they were more desperate than ever, and were urging us to climb still faster. There was nothing to be done, but to keep on climbing. And so we did, but with heavy hearts now, for we could not forget that with every step we took we were advancing towards our doom.

But once again we forged on, even more frantically, and the gap between us and the climbers ahead began to dwindle rapidly. Soon we were so close that we could see their camps with the naked eye.

And now, at this long-awaited moment, when we had almost drawn abreast, we encountered another shock – we saw why the gap between us and the Anthropoi had closed so rapidly. It was because most of them had stopped climbing: the Kraani had turned on them, and were now forcing them, just as they had once forced us, to dig up the riches of the mountain so that they could build machines to carry them off the Mountain. But these machines were small, with room only for their leaders and the Kraani, and perhaps even a few of our own Eldermen. The other Anthropoi, most of them, would be left behind, even the savants (who, we now discovered, had always been secretly despised by the Kraani).

Now suddenly everything changed. Hordes of the Anthropoi came running towards us, crying out in despair, just as we had done for so long. Brought together by our shared foreboding we joined hands and embraced: no longer were we Anthropoi and Varvaroi – we were one.

‘Maybe,’ said their savants, ‘there was some wisdom in your beliefs after all. Can you please tell us your old stories, sing us your old songs, and show us your dances so that we can determine whether your Mountain really is alive or not?’

Now, to our dismay, we found that we had forgotten the old stories and songs and dances. We too had come to believe that they were foolish and fantastical and had no place in the Age of the Anthropoi. So then began a frantic search to find someone, anyone, who remembered anything at all about our old ways.

After much searching we finally chanced upon an old woman who had once been an Adept, but had kept it secret for fear of the Kraani. It wasn’t easy to persuade her to dance, but in the end she did agree to perform. And once she hit her stride, a strange, miraculous thing happened: we could feel the Mountain reverberating under our feet as though in answer to the dance.

We were all amazed but none more so than the savants of the Anthropoi, who cried out: ‘You were right! The Mountain is alive! We can feel its heartbeat under our feet. This means we must look after the poor, dear Mountain; we must tend to it; we must care for it.’

At this the Adept ceased her whirling and came to a stop, her eyes blazing with anger.

‘How dare you?’ she cried. ‘How dare you speak of the Mountain as though you were its masters, and it were your plaything, your child? Have you understood nothing of what it has been trying to teach you? Nothing at all?’

[amer-ainu]

Ancestral Ainu Remains Returned by Tokyo University by Noah Oskow

A long fight by Japan's indigenous Ainu results in a hard-won victory - but much more remains to be done. Resting Once Again Amongst Their People

On August 22nd, a Kamuinomi – an Ainu ceremony meant to celebrate the return of spirts to the realm of the gods – was held in Urahoro, in eastern Hokkaido. The sacrament’s purpose was that of welcoming back six sets of indigenous remains, taken long ago by Japanese researchers based out of the famed Tokyo University. The researchers first removed the Ainu remains from their gravesites in 1889, in the early Meiji Era; later, others returned in 1965, in the post-war era, for more.

The group receiving the ancestral remains was the Raporo Ainu Nation, the local Urahoro indigenous organization. For them, it was a day of quiet celebration – the culmination of a series of victories in their quest to reclaim stolen Ainu remains.

Raporo Ainu Nation had previously brought court cases against Hokkaido and Sapporo Medical Universities, both of which housed innumerable Ainu skeletons; all have now been returned to their homelands. Tokyo University, despite earlier protestations, was now also acquiescing to similar demands.

Six wooden boxes were laid out in front of a large freshly dug grave. Besides the waiting earth sat the Ainu delegation, bedecked in traditional clothing. They chanted in the Ainu tongue – one unrelated to the Japanese language which otherwise surrounded them. (Unlike the languages of the native Ryukuans, Ainu is not a Japonic language.) Libations of sake were offered to the kamuy, the spirits. Then, the remains were finally reinterred in the land from which they had so long ago been taken.

The Abduction of their Ancestors

The impetus for the veritable grave plundering of Ainu bones was ostensibly scientific: the desire by Japanese researchers to learn more about the physical and, later, genetic make-up of the indigenous ethnic minorities native to Japan’s northern borders. Indeed, at the time of the first unearthing, Hokkaido (and the native Ainu people along with them) had only recently been fully incorporated into Japan.

Previous to the Meiji Restoration in 1868, Hokkaido wasn’t even “Hokkaido;” rather, it was Ezo, a frontier borderland peopled by those the Japanese considered “barbarians.” A relatively small Japanese settler colony ruled by the Matsumae clan existed on the southern tip of Oshima Penninsula, which regulated trade with the Ainu and oversaw Japanese financial control of the island.

Sadly, this led to the entire field of Ainu Studies being essentially founded on grave robbery.

Previous to Japanese encroachment and eventual control, the Ainu people lived in villages scattered across Ezo, Sakhalin Island, and the Kurils. While they had a hunter-gatherer lifestyle that appeared uncivilized to the Japanese, Ainu society was in fact more complex than most interlopers perceived.

Beyond their advanced hunting and fishing techniques, the Ainu were also part of a diverse and expansive trade network that stretched from Hokkaido in the south, to Kamchatka in the far north. Ainu traders rode in dugout canoes to the Asian mainland, where they traded with the indigenous peoples of the Amur river basin. Sakhalin Ainu even made war with the Mongol-controlled Yuan dynasty of China, and later engaged in tributary trading with the Ming and Yuan dynasties.

High-quality silk brocades given to Ainu chieftains by the Chinese became prized goods for trade with encroaching Japanese from the south. It was access to these Chinese goods and Ainu-hunted pelts, furs, painted Sakhalin beads, and live falcons that made Japanese samurai desirous towards control of Ainu trade. Japanese trading pressure; exploitative and often coerced use of Ainu labor in Japanese fisheries; the ravages of newly introduced diseases; all these brought irreparable damage to the Ainu environment and society.

The Myth of a Naturally Doomed People

In 1889, in the midst of Japan’s headlong rush towards modernity, the Japanese government passed the Hokkaido Former Aborigines Protection Act. The Ainu were now officially considered Japanese. In practice, this meant they were subject to forced cultural assimilation that further disrupted their society and lead, ironically, to mass discrimination.

The Ainu’s were now a periphery people scheduled to be made “Japanese,” their “aboriginal” status to be forgotten as quickly as possible. In light of the notion that the Ainu were now a “disappearing tribe,” Japanese researchers became intent on taking as many artifacts of the Ainu’s material culture as possible before the earth swallowed them up. This is part of what resulted in the initial untombing of the Ainu remains just recently returned by Tokyo University.

In these inaugural years of the field of ‘Ainu Studies” (アイヌ学), previously held ideas about Ainu “barbarians” were melded with the emerging scientific field of evolution, leading Japanese researchers to make various claims about Ainu inferiority to “more evolved” Japanese society. Researchers, although often empathetic towards the plight of the impoverished Ainu, believed the only way to “save” the object of their research was to assimilate them out of existence. As Ainu ties to their craft traditions waned and the people themselves were assumed to be on the brink of annihilation, researchers felt the need to collect and document as much as possible.

A Dark Legacy for Ainu Studies

The Hokkaido Museum of Northern Peoples (Hoppo Minzoku Hakubutsukan) exhibits about the culture of Ainu native people and other northern peoples of the world.

Sadly, this led to the entire field of Ainu Studies being essentially founded on grave robbery. In both 1864 and 1865, mere years before the fall of the Tokugawa dynasty, the British consul in Hakodate led a group of foreigners interested in uncovering the mystery of the Ainu’s “Caucasian” features to secretly raid Ainu gravesites. When the story broke, it became a major scandal (even resulting in the firing of the consul).

Yet subsequent Japanese researchers continued to seek out Ainu bones for well over a century. Sometimes this was done with the understanding of local Ainu. (As often happened with Ainu crafts, money was possibly exchanged). Other times, however, researchers hoping to learn more about this “disappearing tribe” engaged in acts that very much resembled the previous British consul’s.

Ancestors Unearthed

Most infamous of the grave robbers was Hokkaido University Professor Kodama Sakuzaemon, who lead various state-sanctioned raids into local boneyards throughout the 1920s to 1970s – all against Ainu protests. Sometimes police were called in to help hold off Ainu from physically preventing the unearthing of their ancestors. As is recalled in the book Beyond Ainu Studies, a 1930’s bone-collecting expedition resulted in…

…the entire village police force [being] enlisted to assist Kodama’s team and when three or four elderwomen threw their bodies over their ancestors’ grave sites they were unceremoniously removed by attending officers. The end result of decades of university researchers stealing thousands of ancestral remains was an Ainu populace who often distrusted and felt anger towards those Japanese academics and scientists who, ostensibly, wanted to understand the Ainu. Especially egregious to the Ainu was the fact that, within their tradition, bodies are to buried whole in order to maintain a tie to the spirit.

Painful Memories

Our land, Ainu Mosir, had been invaded, our language stripped, our ancestral remains robbed, the blood of living Ainu taken, and even our few remaining utensils carried away. At this rate, what would happen to the Ainu people? For Kayano Shigeru (萱野 茂, 1926 – 2006), the first Ainu in Japanese parliament and a major voice for indigenous rights, the spiriting away of Ainu skeletons and artifacts by mainland researchers was a source of much shame. In his famous memoir, Our Land Was A Forest, Kayano recalled returning home to find treasured artifacts missing; his impoverished father had sold them away to researchers.

In those days I despised scholars of Ainu culture from the bottom of my heart. They used to visit my father for his extensive knowledge of the Ainu. I often railed at them and, accusing them of behavior as rude as that of waking a sleeping child, ordered them never to return. Professor K. [likely Kodama] of Hokkaido University was one at whom I snarled many times… They dug up our sacred tombs and carried away ancestral bones. Under the pretext of research, they took blood from villagers and, in order to examine how hairy we were, rolled up our sleeves, then lowered our collars to check our backs… It was this same anger and desire to recover the Ainu culture that lead Kayano to become such a major voice in the question for indigenous rights in Japan.

Seeing such self-centered conduct by shamo [Japanese] scholars, I asked myself whether matters should be left as they were: Our land, Ainu Mosir, had been invaded, our language stripped, our ancestral remains robbed, the blood of living Ainu taken, and even our few remaining utensils carried away. At this rate, what would happen to the Ainu people? What would happen to Ainu culture? From that moment on, I vowed to take them back.

The Fight to Reclaim the Ancestors

It was with the same spirit of cultural recovery that Ainu groups from around Hokkaido have set out to gain the return of their ancestor’s remains. In 2008, after centuries of denial and erasure, the Japanese government suddenly announced that the Ainu were to be legally considered the indigenous people of the north. Although by this point there remained only around 25,000 self-declared Ainu with only a few elderly native speakers still living, this signaled a huge victory for Ainu rights. In 2013, the Ainu council of Kineusu used their new indigenous status as a basis for suing Hokkaido University for the return of uninterred Ainu bones.

More lawsuits followed. Slowly, the ancestral remains and funerary artifacts sitting in collections and in storage across universities in Japan began to be returned. Hokkaido University, home to more Ainu remains than any other facility in Japan, played a major role in these skeletal repatriations. In July, Hokkaido opened the Symbolic Space for Ethnic Harmony – a “national center for the revival and development of Ainu culture.” The center is to host the National Ainu Museum and National Ainu Park. Importantly, it also has a space to carefully store Ainu remains. Still, the Symbolic Space itself has become controversial with Ainu, with some hoping for the return of remains more directly to Ainu communities.

The Way Forward

The return of the ancestral remains by Tokyo University on Saturday comes amidst an interesting time for the Ainu community. Recognition of the Ainu and their culture is one the rise worldwide, they finally have recognition by the Japanese government, and cultural revival movements are gaining steam. Young Ainu are engaged in reconnecting with their heritage, learning their language, and sharing their culture with others. Hokkaido schools will soon have textbooks that make multiple references to Ainu history. The field of Ainu Studies has evolved, now placing more primacy on the perceptions of the Ainu themselves and welcoming more Ainu scholars.

Yet still, Ainu face discrimination and erasure. A national survey from only four years ago revealed that a huge 74% of Japanese people had never been exposed to Ainu culture or people. The now-delayed 2020 Tokyo Olympics suddenly axed an Ainu ceremony planned for the opening ceremonies. Progress is being made, but it’s not always enough.

Yet, on Saturday, as the burial of six sets of remains in Urahoro marked the complete return of a total of 103 such Ainu once held at Tokyo University, Raporo Ainu Nation honorary president Masaki Sashima found himself becoming emotional.

この瞬間を迎えられて感無量です。遺骨には『今まで待たせて申し訳ありませんでした。静かに眠ってください』とお祈りしました。I’m overcome with feeling having reached this moment. I prayed to the remains of the deceased, saying, “I’m greatly sorry for having made you wait so long. Please rest in peace.”

The earth of the Ainu Moshir, the Ainu homeland, once again embraced the ancestral remains, welcoming them home.

Sources (08月22日). 東大返還アイヌの人の遺骨を埋葬. NHK News Web.

Kayano, S. (1994). Our Land Was A Forest : An Ainu Memoir. Routledge.

Hudson, M.J., Lewallen, A., & Watson, M.K. (2014). Beyond Ainu Studies: Changing Academic and Public Perspectives. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press.

Walker, B. (2001). The Conquest of Ainu Lands: Ecology and Culture in Japanese Expansion,1590-1800. University of California Press.

Kimura, K. (2015, July 25). Japan’s indigenous Ainu sue to bring their ancestors’ bones back home. The Japan Times.

[beautifulkelleyb-wls-vsg-blog]

This beautiful lady used to come to the farm with her daughter. They would walk thru the flowers picking a beautiful boquet every week. This particular week she looked radiant. . . . #flowers #flowerstagram #deepseeded #deepseededfarm #eldersister #elderwomen #KelleyBarrettPhotography #garden #communitysustainedagriculture #communitysustainableagriculture

[thefestival]

The Festival - Developer Log 6, 6/06/2024

Hello!

Following up from my last devlog a couple weeks back, one major thing I want to share today is the current outline for The Festival’s pilot quest, Hemmingward.

The first draft for this script was completed in Fall 2023, and in the past term Bekir reviewed the script in its entirety, raising several issues that I needed to address. The second draft of the script is currently in progress, though I don’t have an estimate on when exactly it will be completed.

What we do have completed is an outline of the second draft, which I am going to share with you all today. This outline is still subject to change, but this is the current version that I am working to flesh out and implement. The script is divided into three ‘acts’, primarily to make the overall script easier to read and work with.

This story is heavily based on the Bosnian film Snow/Snijeg (2008), by director Aida Begić. The central premise of a village having lost all its men and dealing with a visitor who, unbeknownst to them, was complicit in the loss of their men is taken straight from Snow.

I will detail the outline of the quest below the cut.

Hemmingward

Log Line

In pursuit of a secret recipe, Nishma is roped into solving a decade-long mystery, and putting a village’s trauma to rest.

Act I

Nishma and Gil to the hamlet of Hemmingward to obtain the recipe for Mandrake Meat, a plant-based substance that closely resembles red meat. The elderwomen of the village have offered to take part in Nishma’s festival, and they have invited her to their town to discuss their involvement.

However, she is not the only one who wants the recipe – a businessman named Helvan Dynicus is trying to buy it off the villagers.

Nishma and Gil run into Helvan shortly after they arrive in town. The girls sense there’s something off about the man, who attempts to rope Nishma into his scheme. After a brief exchange, Nishma and Gil continue on their way to meet with the elderwomen – Elders Margot, Camaltha, and Eurydice.

The duo sit down to have lunch with the elderwomen, who share the history of their town and their mandrake meat cuisine over a pleasant meal. However, things get complicated once the subject of Helvan Dynicus comes up. While Elder Margot is fully onboard with joining the festival, Elders Camaltha and Eurydice are reluctant to commit without first dealing with this mysterious interloper. Soon, they reveal to Nishma and Gil that they suspect Helvan of being a former military officer who came to Hemmingward years ago and rounded up all of the village's men.

When presented with this information, Nishma will be asked to investigate Helvan Dynicus’s true identity, using her connections to the Citizens Militia (the new ruling government of Eastoria) to find out if this man is indeed the same one as the officer who came 15 years prior.

In the full game, Nishma will have the option of accepting or refusing this quest. For this vertical slice, she will accept the elderwomen’s request, and she and Gil will set out to research what they can about this man (though Gil informs Nishma that they are way over their heads in accepting this responsibility).

After this inciting conversation, Nishma and Gil will place a call with Quartermaster Holmes, a Citizens Militia officer who is helping Nishma with logistical details for the festival.

Holmes is concerned by Nishma trying to carry out this investigation on her own, but nonetheless refers her to the Citizens Militia’s military archives as the place where she will most likely get an answer. With their new objective established, Nishma and Gil leave the village of Hemmingward to start their investigation.

Act II

We fast forward in time a few days. Nishma and Gil visit the military archives to begin their search for any paperwork or evidence pertaining to Helvan Dynicus and the village of Hemmingward. This section of gameplay will be mostly centered on reading documents. I would compare it to some of the side quests/minigames from Pentiment, where the protagonist takes time out of their day to learn some new information about both the world, and the quest at hand.

Eventually, Nishma will find a relevant paper detailing what happened at Hemmingward, but it’s vague in its details and Helvan’s name isn’t listed anywhere. Convinced that the name Helvan Dynicus must be an alias, and that he could still be one of the named officers listed, Nishma tries to gain access to a different part of the archive that could hold information on officer dossiers. However, she and Gil must convince an on-duty guard to let her into that part of the archive. Currently I have three solutions to this conundrum. Nishma can either:

Bribe the guard

Fetch an item of significance for the guard

Resolve an ideological dispute between him and someone else

Once one of these is completed, the guard will allow Nishma access to the other portion of the archive. Once there, Nishma will eventually find the dossier of one of the officers listed as being present at Hemmingward, and realize that he is indeed the same man as Helvan Dynicus. She and Gil will then head to Quartermaster Holmes to present their findings.

At this meeting, Nishma, Gil, and Holmes will discuss the logistics of apprehending Helvan, concluding that they have to work with the elderwomen of Hemmingward to arrest him. After this meeting, Nishma and Gil will call the elderwomen, and arrange to set another meeting as soon as possible.

Act III

Soon after their phone call, Nishma and Gil travel to Hemmingward with two other Citizens Militia soldiers. They meet once more with the elderwomen, along with Taemahra, another resident of the village who has had to deal with Helvan’s interference.

The elderwomen say that Helvan has been out of town for the past couple days, but that they can call him back with a false promise to negotiate a deal for their mandrake meat recipe. There is some conflict over what to do with Helvan once is in custody, with the elderwomen wanting to carry out justice for their men on their terms, and Gil wanting to bring Helvan in to stand trial for his actions. Nishma is able to persuade the elderwomen to go along with the plan to bring Helvan to trial for the time being, though they’re not fully convinced it’s the best idea.

The following day, Helvan returns to town to meet with the elderwomen at their old town hall to sign a deal with them, at which point Gil and the other soldiers spring their trap. They have Helvan in handcuffs, but Helvan manages to catch everyone off-guard by promising to show the elderwomen where their men are buried. At this point the elderwomen demand to have Helvan be handed over, but Gil refuses, and squabbles with elder Camaltha. Nishma is unable to intervene before Helvan throws down a smoke bomb to throw everyone off and cover his escape.

He doesn’t get far though before he runs outside and is shot in the leg by Taemahra, who was standing guard with her own rifle. Injured, Helvan succumbs to the ground, and is taken back inside the town hall by Gil and the soldiers. They and the elderwomen tend to Helvan’s wound while having him confined.

We fast forward a few hours. A crowd has gathered outside the town hall due to the commotion. The two soldiers previously accompanying Gil are posted outside to keep people at bay.

Once Helvan recovers enough to ‘talk’, the elderwomen press him for answers, with Gil and Nishma also asking him questions. It is here that Helvan’s polite façade from earlier disappears, and we see a truly rotten man who casts away all blame for what he did to the village’s men.

After a hostile conversation, the elderwomen agree they will execute Helvan, and go outside to speak with Taemahra about being their executioner. Gil runs after them, leaving Nishma alone with Helvan.

Helvan tries to appeal to Nishma’s kindness and desire to hold the festival (which was informed about in Act I in the first conversation) in an attempt to bribe her to let him survive. He explains he would rather stand trial with the Citizens Militia, believing he can plausibly explain his innocence. Nishma can make multiple choices here:

Accept the bribe and try to talk the elderwomen into letting him live

Reject the bribe but try to convince the elderwomen that it’s important for Helvan to be tried in a court of law

Reject the bribe and let the elderwomen kill him, convincing Gil that she and the others ought to step aside

Accept the bribe, but let the elderwomen kill him anyways

If Helvan is allowed to be killed, Taemahra and the elderwomen go back inside, with Taemahra executing Helvan with her rifle.

If Helvan is allowed to live, he will be escorted out by the two other soldiers. His expression will either be smug or worried, depending on if Nishma accepted the bribe or rejected it.

While Nishma can reject the bribe but still have Helvan stand trial, it’s presented in a different way from than if she agrees to go along with his plan. Nishma can point out to Helvan that it’s better he stand trial, not out of a sense of mercy, but because he must answer for any other crimes he may have committed. She also tries to argue – to him and to the elderwomen – that it’s important to use him to set a precedent for how other war criminals should be prosecuted by the Citizens Militia, a task they’ve historically had mixed success with as they’ve tried to present their new government as legitimate.

Ultimately, I wish to present both options – letting the elderwomen execute him, or letting him stand trial – as valid choices, where both have their strengths, and where the elderwomen are not judged for wanting to carry out revenge against the man who grievously harmed their village.

=====================================================

Thank you for reading this far! I would love to hear any feedback or critiques y’all may have, and I am glad I can finally share this outline with you all.

For my next post, I will try to do a character bio for Gil Yurez.

Lastly, a special thank you to Bekir for all his help in suggesting revisions and corrections for this quest.

[viciousheart]

“I always thought babies were ugly, but ours is beautiful.”

❛  BEAUTIFUL IS NOT STRONG ENOUGH A WORD,  ❜    she says, unable to take her tearful gaze away from the small bundle in her arms. for the millionth time, she counts the baby’s ten fingers, and ten toes.   ❛  it’s funny,  ❜    viviana beings, her voice still full of wonder. wonder at this miracle sleeping in her arms.    ❛  every time i dreamt of this child, every time i thought of it, it was a boy. but i it seems as if she had different plans.  ❜

the baby coos, and viviana leans down to kiss her soft, pink cheek. even the elderwomen told her she was carrying a male child, which is why the little baby is currently wrapped in a blanket they’d knit with blue material. but, secretly, the queen had hoped for a girl. and her hopes had come true. she wipes some fallen tears from her eyes before she finally looks up at murphy.    ❛  we must think of a name for her. together.  ❜    

viviana had immediately thought of giving her her mother’s name. caterina. but she decides against sticking her with a name of the past. this baby is brand new, and so she deserves something new. she deserves her own identity. but, also…    ❛  on the ground, we do not have last names. our clan is our last name. but i wish for her to take on one. yours. because she is half you. if that’s alright with you, of course.  ❜    viviana asks, smiling softly at him. 

all about pregnancy  (  the reward  )  /  accepting  /  @surviivorforged

[ucollectinfographics]

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[fotosdecarla]

friendship, florida USA. 2012

[thefestival]

The Festival - Developer Log 5, 5/25/24

Hey everyone! It’s been a while since our last devlog. I apologize for the delay – I spent all of April finishing the Spring 2024 term here at UConn, and then I’ve been trying to take a break from The Festival the past couple weeks.

Truth be told, I was pretty taxed from life’s responsibilities the past few months, so I’m glad I was able to take some time to rest and recuperate.

I’m currently easing back into development on The Festival for the summer, and so I’d like to use this devlog as an opportunity to recount what I actually got done for the semester.

In previous devlogs, I showed a lot of incremental progress – character models being incorporated into the game, animations being made, and testing out the DialogueTree plugin I am working with. The following video is what I showcased to my MFA committee at the beginning of May, which showcases all of the work I’ve done up to this point.

This is a preview of the game’s Hemmingward quest, which will be the game’s ‘demo’ quest, along with the one quest I hope to have completed by the end of my time at UConn.

I don’t believe I’ve elaborated on this in a previous document, but due to various time constraints (along with the difficulty in making my first game), I decided this semester that I will only have this quest completed by the time I complete my MFA next year.

It will essentially serve as a vertical slice, which I will build upon and (hopefully) use to secure funding and interest going forward. Overall, this project is very near and dear to me, and I intend on developing it into a full release long past my time at the University of Connecticut.

As far as this current build goes, it’s very rudimentary, but this video showcases part of the Hemmingward quest’s script, and how Nishma and Gil interact with the major characters of this story �� Helvan Dynicus, a shifty businessman …

... And the Elderwomen of Hemmingward, who Nishma is trying to learn a secret recipe from.

From left to right: Elder Margot, Elder Camaltha, and Elder Eurydice.

The Elderwomen’s models still need some editing and touching up, but I will save that for polish down the road.

One of the biggest technical developments in-game – which I’m unfortunately not going to keep for now – has been camera switching being triggered through dialogue. It was something I spent a lot of time working on, and it helped me better understand how the “Events” nodes work for the DialogueTree plugin, but I don’t think I’m a fan of how it currently looks. I may instead consider a top-down view with dialogue portraits, similar to the dialogue systems of either Disco Elysium or Hades. (see below for an example)

As of today, I am slowly easing back into work with The Festival. I have to eventually finish the script for the Hemmingward Quest, and I will provide a more expansive explanation of what that quest entails in a future post. For now though, I am currently working on something smaller and with lower stakes: grass sprites!

Working on vegetation has been a good way for me to ease back into the larger project, and it’s been much more relaxing to do now that the current semester is over.

I can’t guarantee when I will be able to update this blog again, but I am excited to resume work on The Festival for the summer.

The next major things I would like to post about would be the Hemmingward quest, along with a character bio for Gil Yurez, Nishma’s friend and bodyguard.